The Dimensional Rift
by ChaoticRetribution
Summary: Ever wondered what it would be like to have a visitor from another dimension visit you? Helena Suzette, a miner in Runescape lands a visit from an unexpected visitor from a world she had never heard of with a disturbing effect on her normal life. RS x L2
1. Miner's Day

_What a long day working in RuneScape…mining, mining and more mining. Can't it be any more interesting?_

_Except for those two rock golems and the occasional swarm, all I ever do is mine more iron, more iron and more iron. All for that high level guy who owns me after I stupidly sold myself to him when I was a level 3._

'More iron, more iron. It seems all I ever do is mine more iron for the BossMan!' I grumbled, hurling my iron pickaxe into the red rock in front of me.

'Can't do any better than that, noob?' the miner beside me laughed, 'Your iron pickaxe won't be able to beat my runite one. Watch this!'

He struck the rock, crumbling it into tiny pieces with one swing. Just one swing. After it took me so long to try and get that ore, and yet I can't obtain it.

'Hah, noob. Get a better pickaxe, why don't you,'

_My ears burned with rage, day after day. It's always the same; I don't have enough money to buy a better pickaxe, and my iron supply continues to dwindle away. Sometimes my boss beats me with a bundle of sticks. It's painful, but I know he can do worse._

Gathering up the twenty-eight pieces of ore that I had broken away, I store them all into my leather backpack. I count the coins in my rear pocket; checking if any had been stolen by the pickpockets or dropped through the hole in my pack. Patched and worn, it still somehow manages to carry all the iron ore I stash in it. How it holds together I do not know; I've heard of people miraculously carrying extremely heavy loads without snapping the straps. As far as I know, everyone around me has the same kind, however none show the same amount of wear and tear as mine.

I heave the weight onto my shoulders. The heat of the sun and the stinging dust-borne wind makes it no easier to bear the load, though I inch my way back to Varrock. This well-worn path I've trod upon many times, the same stones I see every day. How boring it is to be a miner…I wished that I had been one of those warrior-craftsmen, killing creatures and fashioning salable items from the things they drop.

_Look on to the bright side though, Helena; perhaps one day you'll have enough experience to mine that Runite ore that most of RuneScape wears. Then you'll be laughing as they pay out high prices for what you have._

The weight of the iron slides off my shoulders as I drop it onto the smooth black-and-white marble floor of the Bank of Varrock. Everyone around seems to mind their own business, depositing and withdrawing items in their multitudes. Only the banker seems to notice me; he turns up his nose at my grimy, dirty face.

'Is this the last load for today, Mistress Helena?' he speaks, in that falsely courteous tone I had grown to dislike for no apparent reason.

'Yes, banker. Put this into storage and record it. How much of it do I have?'

'Exactly five hundred and sixty kilograms,' he says, checking a list of items pulled out from nowhere.

'Turn them all into notes for me please,'

'Done,'

He passed me the scrap of tattered yellow paper, stamped with the seal of the Bank of Varrock and the image of raw iron, with a number scribbled below it. Outside my master waited for me, tapping his foot impatiently. He held out his hand; a demand for the piece of paper.

'How much do you bring today, noob?' he growled, grasping my hair and forcing me to walk faster. Nobody bothered to even look; noobs weren't treated well in any case, and I was one of them. Weak. Worthless to the experienced fighter.

'Five hundred and sixty kilograms,'

'That's better, slave; today you'll not earn a whipping from me. Have this,' he cackled, shoving a fistful of gold coins into my soiled hands, 'You'll get something for it, I assure you,'

_One…two…five…twenty-five…five hundred? That's all he gave me? I should've counted earlier! Perhaps I could've taken him to the courts of justice…_

_But no…_

_Even then I couldn't possibly have taken him there. Who'd believe a person like me? Low level, without any weight in threats nor money. No power to change judgements. I'd just be kicked out of that courthouse._

_Hmph. So much for justice._

I trudge back to the Blue Moon Inn, the only safe place in town at night. The back roads were packed with muggers, thieves and other criminals, and even the guards wouldn't bother to protect anyone in there. They never help anyone, those guards; they won't even talk to you.

The door to the inn was open as usual, with rowdy adventurers and drunken citizens crowded into a room full of tables, glasses and jugs of wine. Alcohol was freely available here, and perhaps I could drown my sorrows in drink.

'Evening, Barty,' I said to the bartender, sitting in the empty seat at the far end of the table, 'How's things?'

'Oh, not so bad. Your 'master' mistreated you again, I suppose?' he replied, cleaning an empty glass.

'You read my expressions all too well,' I smiled, 'Two beers, well-chilled thanks. I've had those horrible warm ones before at Al-Kharid; kept 'em in my pack for a day, tried to drink them and they're warm. Disgusting,'

I listen to the tunes on the piano the pirate was playing, his hooked right hand playing an ungainly melody. The bartender passed me two glasses of cold beer, and I immediately gulped them down. There was nothing like drink to stifle away the growls of a hungry stomach; and even better was total drunkenness. Time passes a hundredfold faster, the world itself seems as though it shrinks and warps, fantastic shapes and lights appearing from nowhere and vanishing into nowhere. Almost like a brighter future.

'Five more,' I asked, placing the empty glasses on the counter.

'Five? Isn't that a little too much?'

'Just give me the damned beers,' I ranted, tossing ten coins into his fat hand.

Drink after drink disappeared as the hours whiled away. Gulping down my fifteenth glass of beer, I collapse onto the floor, drunk, happy. Without a care. I felt the strong arms of the bartender wrap around mine, heaving me to my feet and into my room, his heavy footsteps disappearing in the merry laughter of the other drunken citizens of Varrock downstairs.

'You'll not live long, given you drink like this every day, my friend,' he chuckled, dropping me onto my bed, 'You'd better watch how much you drink, lest you meet a mugger or the like,'

'Eh, shut up you,' I mumbled drunkenly, lifting a woozy fist playfully into the direction of his face, 'I drink like this every night, and I come out fine,'

'Ah, whatever,' he grins, dodging my ill-aimed punch, 'G'night,'

_It's always like this…I work long hours in the mines, and at night I drink away to sleep. Never anything different. Always mining, always spending what I earned in board and drink. Everything left in my pocket would disappear next morning, thieved by the pickpockets who frequent the nearby alleys._

_Oh, I want a change. Something new. Saradomin help me if I don't find it, I'd die of boredom sooner than I'd drink myself to death._

A/N

How was it? Boring? That's how I intend this chapter—as boring as possible, to bring you closer to those mining bots that work all day without rest while their owners are away somewhere. They earn minimal wages; give them a break! Be one of them for once—feel their boredom, doing the same thing over and over again. Well, that's one side of RuneScape for you.

This IS a crossover fic after all, however I'm setting it up right now. This character—Helena—is about as close as you'd get to a regular Runescapian, a mining pure. I will throw in characters from another MMORPG, Lineage II, to liven things up, and perhaps something from their universe.

(Lineage II isn't very well known.  for more information regarding this. In addition, it DOES have a storyline, unlike RuneScape, although players are free to choose their own storyline.)


	2. Dimensional Guest

An incessant bashing on the door of my room roused me from my sleep.

'Get up! You're going to mine for me another five hundred kilograms of iron ore, lazy slave!'

I roll over in my bed, putting my pillow over my head. I hated the way he always came in every morning, hammering on my door; it's not even dawn yet, the sun's not even above the horizon.

_That click. He's unlocked it…do I really have to work this early?_

He grabbed me roughly off the bed and thrust the old iron pickaxe into my hands, cackling afterwards as he slapped me across the cheek.

'That might help you wake up, worthless thing,' he sneered, watching with cruel disdain as I rise up, clutching the red mark on my face, 'I should've bought a slave who was more willing to serve. Come now, and don't be late,'

'I'm starving, and you don't even care,' I mutter to myself with hatred.

'What's that? You're hungry?' he laughed, thrusting a piece of stale bread into my open, yawning mouth, 'Eat that, it might keep your mind off things,'

_Saradomin, I hate him…treats me like a dog. I wished I knew where he sleeps each night; then I can kill him in his sleep._

I chew on the hard crusty bread for a moment, knowing it would provide at least some nourishment. Even if it's not much, I wouldn't be able to get anything better; without any money in my pockets, I can't even buy a piece of burnt meat.

Not another soul was awake yet in the city of Varrock. I look up at the clock hanging on the bar's wall, then tore my eyes back to the floor. Five in the morning. An ungodly hour to begin work.

'Come on, are you going to work or not?' my master hissed in my ear, prodding the small of my back with a sharp dagger, 'If you're not, then I'll force you to,'

'Yes, master,' I said, moving quickly away from him. To disobey him…was worse than working from midnight till midnight in the next day. Lashes and beatings he'd give, all the time shouting in my ear to get me working faster. As if I could; with this rotten iron pickaxe it is impossible to compete against those with rune.

By midday, I was drenched in sweat, grime and dust. All others have stopped working as fast as they came; the glaring sun on the barren mine was almost unbearable. The handle was as hot as a pie dish straight out of an oven, and my gloves were thin and worn, not at all the right kind to keep the intense heat off my blistered hands. My parched and cracked lips stung with every breath, the moving air burning the open cuts.

'Keep working you lazy worm!' my master hollered, lashing my bare back with a nine-headed whip, while drinking wine from a goatskin. Drinking in front of me, laughing as he saw the thirst in my eyes.

_I want to kill him, the uncaring brute…if only he didn't have his personal bodyguard at all times…I would strangle him in his sleep, or poison his food…_

I felt the tip of my pickaxe glance across something hard. Something other than ore. Seeing my master occupied with a beautiful maiden, I quickly shove my hand into the crevice, extracting a magic rune from the rock. Hastily I stowed it away in my pocket, not bothering to examine it.

'Is anything wrong, slave?' my master questioned me, leering out of those horrible dark eyes.

'No, sir,'

'If that's the case, then get moving! I want that ore by the end of the day!' he roared, bringing down his whip again.

By the end of the day, my back was covered with bruises and hundreds of whip scars. I threw the last load of ore into the banker's open hands again, took the note that he held out in his hand and dumped it into my master's waiting palm. I snatch the moneybag out of his hand and glared at him, before leaving for the inn once more.

_At least the rune is safe…I must have it examined by the rune-shop keeper. Who knows what it is; as far as I know, nobody's ever found a rune in a rock yet…_

I open the rotten wooden door of the rune shop, a decaying, tiny building in the corner of the city. A horrendous smell surged out of the open doorway, forcing me to pinch my nose as I entered the dark chamber.

'Is everything alright?' the shopkeeper asked, 'What would you like here,'

'Ah, I'd like to have this examined, please,' I mumble to him, almost unable to speak; the stench of the pickled…whatever…in the jar on the shelves was overpowering. Almost like a dead body. Until I realised it was a _hand_ in the jar, covered in some green fluid.

_Disgusting…I'd get out of here as soon as I can…_

'What have we here? A rune that I have not seen before,' the shopkeeper sighed, putting on a pair of glasses. He pulled out a thick, leather-covered tome, dusting it with his hands. Turning the age-worn pages carefully with one hand while tracing the grooves and patterns carved into the rune with the other, he seemed almost like a learned scholar from the Library of Varrock. Almost. If it weren't for the spider-web dangling from his ear and the skull on his desk, I'd say he was.

'You've a Time rune here, young lady. A piece of an ancient puzzle to open new dimensions,' he concluded, shutting the book and spraying me with dust, 'If you'd like, I'll teleport you to the Rune Essence mine, to see how the giant runestone responds to it. Yes or no?'

'Yes, I'd like to go…'

_Anything to get out of this stinking hole…_

'Then let's go. Serventior Disthine…' he chanted, 'Mole—Ah…ah…achoo!'

I felt as though an iron ring had gripped me about the middle, forcing me through a pipe too small for me, while spinning around madly. More than once I felt something hard hit my head. An unpleasant trip indeed…

I landed face first, into a thick, disgusting pile of mud and dirt. Wiping the muck from my eyes, I see a giant stone circle, with a small recess exactly the same shape and size as the rune I held. Thick, white mist billowed all around; if anything was near me, I couldn't possibly see.

The stone circle was inscribed all over with an ancient writing I could not read; the letters were faded and worn, but their intricate curls could still be indistinctly seen.

_Well…? What am I waiting for? I'll insert this…here. There._

A flash of white light, a rushing sound. I was hurled down into the ground, finding myself facing a clear blue sky instead of the gloomy mist. Groaning as I picked myself up, I notice a strange figure in front of me.

There was a wounded female...not-quite-human in front of me. Her ears were far too long to be human and yet…there was something mysteriously familiar. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't the green of goblins that made me feel so. Dressed in glistening knight's armour, she appeared to be formidable, much larger than her actually slender figure. I marveled at how she could hold a two-handed sword almost as high as she stood.

I stood silently watching her in awe, when I noticed her stagger forward. Three arrowheads stuck out of her back, with bits of viciously torn flesh and skin still stuck to the serrated silvery tips. She leant on her sword for support, evidently gasping for breath.

_She may be a stranger, but whoever this is, she certainly needs help…Where am I anyway?_

I look frantically around for a sign of my whereabouts. A few sheep, a few trees…and a pair of white skulls painted on signs. I was in the wilderness—and she was further in. The monks in the monastery would be able to help, but for a simple miner like me to carry a fully-dressed warrior that far…?

There was no room for questions. Already a pair of marauding murderers started to approach the wounded warrior from the back, raising their scimitars for the kill. I had no choice but to help.

I charge out, roaring and swinging my pickaxe at them, taking them by surprise. That was all of my luck, however; my pickaxe buried itself in the ground with the first swing, partly due to their dextrous dodging and also my inexpertise at fighting.

'Get out of here!' I yell to the wounded person, 'You're injured, seek some help!'

'Help?' she said, in an almost musical voice, 'This shall be my fight, they have attempted to slay me from the back. Now I shall return their cowardice with vengeance!'

Flames seemed to light within the sapphire blue eyes of the blonde woman, causing her attackers to flinch backwards. Seizing the handle of her sword with both her hands, she roared in rage, oblivious to the pain that was apparent (to my eyes, anyway). Her opponents raised their rune-plated shields in terror, a futile defense against the woman, who cleaved apart their shields into broken shards of metal and scraps of leather, leaving their arms dangling limp and broken at their sides.

'Flee from me, worthless insects!' she roared. The grace and beauty I saw in her did not exist in her blazing eyes, replaced by a burning rage matched equally by a destructive power that my master could never hope to rival. She was a whirlwind of destruction, ravaging everything her blade touched. Seeing her opponents fleeing, the woman grasped a bow which was slung on her back and let off a volley of arrows, sealing the fate of the murderers.

I ran towards her, grasping her shoulder as her knees buckled. She looked at me, smiling; I was shocked to see the fire in her eyes gone. Was it a mere trick of the light? In any case, she needed immediate treatment. Her bleeding was severe, and the arrows that have pierced her chest seemed all the more lethal with the blood trailing on the shafts and feathers.

'Are you alright?' I asked, feeling foolish. Of course she wasn't!

'No, not really. But I will be fine, thank you,' she replied, still with the warm smile. It was incredible how she could endure so much pain and still be able to speak like this.

'I'll take you to a place where you can get help,' I offered her, 'You can't possibly last long like this, especially with those arrows in your chest,'

'Thank you very much,' she replied, one hand using her sword as a walking stick, 'I…I must hurry back to Gludio,'

_Where is that? She must be…wait…_

_Didn't that rune-shop keeper say that the rune I got was a key to another dimension? Or something like that? Then…_

_She must be from another world._

'Gludio? Where is that?'

'A fortified town on the fork of two great rivers, with a castle on the mountain opposite. It is under attack by a band of orcs and rogue humans, and if the town is unaided, all will be lost,' she replied, coughing onto her hand; a spray of crimson smeared on the ivory of her hand.

'Ok…' I reply, trying to seem as though I understand. She didn't seem too convinced though, somehow…

I caught sight of a brown-robed man standing over a garden wall, tending some flowers.

_It must be a monk…and if so, they should be able to help us heal this poor woman._

'Good gracious me,' the monk whispered to himself, dropping the hoe in his hand, 'Another injured traveller. Hold on there, I'm coming,'

After we had eased the woman into the closest sick bed in the monastery, the monk left to obtain some boiled water and herbs to heal her wounds. Left alone, I lifted the heavy metal pauldrons pinned to her breastplate. I would have never expected anyone so slender of build to carry so much weight; let alone to carry so many weapons. Her bow, an exceptionally sturdy one made out of metal and bone, leant against the wall; her dagger, two-handed sword and twin short swords were placed on a table, where they shone in the sunlight. A quiver of arrows was still attached to her armour, and this I duly removed.

'Thank you,' she spoke, smiling weakly at me. I could almost feel the pain and weariness within her, though she did not show it one bit.

'You're welcome,' I replied, trying to sound cheery in the hopes of cheering her up, 'My name is Helena, Helena Suzette. What's yours?'

'Lionna Blackbird, an Elven Royal Knight of Gludio,' she said, grasping my hand in a firm handshake. A wounded warrior she may be, but great strength she still possesses.

'Nice to meet you. Oh, the monk's here to wash and cure those horrible wounds,' I hastily say, extracting my hand from her grip and rubbing the throbbing pink skin. She probably didn't mean to hurt me, but it still does.

I turn around to face the monk, who brought in a basin filled with cool, clear water sprinkled with cuttings of various herbs. Passing me a cloth, he nodded to me; I understood what to do.

'Lionna, please understand,' I whisper into her ear, grasping the shaft of the arrow that protruded from her back. It had to be pulled out, no matter how much it hurt.

'Bite on this if you need to,' the monk said, passing her a strip of leather, 'So you don't bite your tongue,'

She placed the leather in between her lips and bit down, closing her eyes as if bracing for the pain. I pulled at the arrow; it shifted but an inch. Its serrated edges clung on to her flesh and skin, refusing to let go.

_Forgive me, friend…_ I thought to myself, as I listened to her agonised whimpers after I had pulled out the arrow. Not a tear did she shed, even while in this much pain; she has incredible endurance…even I cried a river when I was being whipped by my master, begging for reprieve.

Two more arrows and the terrible job was finished. Copious amounts of blood stained the sheets that the elf sat upon. Only one more thing was left to do. I unclasped the link that held her breastplate together, lifting it over her head, while the monk readied his herbal mixture. Dabbing a little at a time, I stood silently watching as Lionna bit down on the leather. Whether it was the wet cloth stinging on the open wounds or just the wounds itself I wouldn't know; I had never seen anyone in so much pain before.

'There, we're done,' the monk said, leaving the cloth in the basin. The water within was red by now.

'No, we're not yet done, I think, the wounds are still open,'

'Oh dear,' he mouthed, 'That I forgot. Even the monastery has run out of thread and needle, such is the volume of adventurers that pass through this place every day,'

'I'll buy some,' I tell him, reaching in my pockets for some coins I hoped were still left.

'No need,' Lionna groaned, sitting up, 'Please, I need a glass of water,'

The monk hastened to provide a jug of water for her, which she gulped down in earnest.

'Spirits of the water,' she chanted, addressing an invisible being, 'From the friendship we have forged through the beginning of time, lend me your power. Heal my wounds to seal the flesh that was once whole, just as the oceans of time mend them,'

Lionna seemed to fall into a trance as she completed the spell by drawing a magical symbol in the air with a finger soaked in water. Her wounds glowed with a brilliant light several times brighter than the sun; I was forced to look away in fear of blinding myself. When the glow had ceased, her wounds were no longer visible, not even a scar left behind.

'That must be one of the fastest recoveries I have ever seen,' the monk gasped in awe, 'Still, you must rest here for at least one night, lady Lionna, if that is your name,'

'Thank you for these courtesies,' she smiled back, 'It is not every day that I meet such pleasant company. For these days are consumed in war, and not many trust one another,'

'She comes from another dimension,' I whisper to the nonplussed monk, who shrugged his shoulders and resumed the maintenance of the monastery garden.

I noticed a strange marking on both her shoulders, something other than ancient battle scars. It was drawn in coloured inks, in intricate designs that few could hope to craft.

'Lionna, if I may ask,' I said, pointing to the red design on her left shoulder, 'What is that?'

'This? It is a symbol of strength. By mixing dyes of magical potency, masters of these drawings, this art, can change the substance of the body to their will—increasing the fighting abilities of one while pushing the body to its limits. In this sense, this essentially destroys one part of my body, to increase the ability of another part,'

'Errh…alright? That sounds…grotesque,' I mumble, raising an eyebrow, 'But do continue,'

'Ah, I understand now how you interpret what I have just said. It is not about physically destroying my body, such as an arm or leg, but it is to increase my power in the place of stamina, or so to speak. Such little things as that,'

'Right,' I said, clicking my fingers, 'That would make sense, you don't seem disfigured or anything. In fact, you're about the most beautiful person I've seen,'

'Thank you,' she grinned, 'If it weren't for my Elven blood, my visage would have been quite destroyed through the scars of battle I have endured for hundreds of years,'

_Hundreds…of years…? She looks no older than twenty-one, at the most._

'Uh…excuse me? Did I hear correctly? Hundreds of years?' I stutter, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes, you heard correctly my friend, hundreds of years. I have been a warrior for a little over one thousand years, to be exact,'

'And you're…how old?'

'Hmm, I wouldn't say old,' she said, propping her head up with a hand, 'There are elders of my tribe who are more than thirty millennia old, and they are the survivors of the Endless Winter. I am one of the younglings, only one thousand, two hundred and fifty years of age,'

'My god…and you say you aren't old. If you're young, then I'd be a newborn baby,'

'Maybe so,' she grinned, 'You're as pure of heart as one. To help a stranger such as me in the first place, you deserve a reward of some sort,'

'Oh, it's alright, I don't need any reward. I'm just a simple miner,'

'A miner? Like a dwarf?' she asked, 'It is rare for humans to want to be one, where I come from. They'd rather fight and conquer, killing each other for land and treasure than to do such productive deeds,'

'Sounds much like my master,'

'Your master? You're a slave?'

'Yes,'

'No matter. I will visit you someday, perhaps to free you from your shackles,'

'Thanks,'

I ease her back down onto the soft bed, my mind straining to process the boggling information she gave me. One thousand two-hundred and fifty years old? She must be insane. As I turn to leave, she suddenly uttered the words I had least expected.

'In fact, I'll come with you. Perhaps I can speak to your master about the price to purchase your services, so that I may later liberate you,'

'Uh…alright…I guess?'

I thought about the messy room I had in the inn, and perhaps I had better rent a better room fit for a royal guard. Oh, had I more money in my pockets.

I lifted all the pieces of armor back onto the female warrior's back, like a squire would to a knight. To work for a real one would definitely be a better life for me; so much better than mining in the hot sun all day, if only my status would allow me. Only those of noble birth could do so, and I was one of the peasants.

'How do you even use this thing,' I grunt, straining as hard as I could on the bow that she had, 'It's not even bending one bit,'

'You'll learn how to eventually after you use the softer-stringed ones,' she patiently replied, strapping her many-sheathed leather belt back on, 'That one consumed much of my time in training trying to learn how to use it,'

Lionna and I strolled along the lawns of the monastery, descending the marble steps and into the evening beyond. It was nearly dark, and we would have to pass through the Barbarian Village soon; I hope they wouldn't give us much trouble. After all, we were two women, and they weren't always noted for their hospitality.

A/N

How was the chapter? Read and Review please, need more help on how to better improve this story.

Lionna Blackbird is NOT a character of my own creation, she is mentioned in the Chronicles as a royal knight of Elven descent. Using her beautiful voice as a morale-boosting weapon, she was also skilled in using all weapons, though her allies were few. A touchingly tragic character, most of her fellow allies were slain in a siege, and she left a dishonoured knight.


	3. The Cursed or the Blessed

Lionna was more than capable of handling wounds, as I found out quickly enough. Her recovery was far quicker than the most robust human being, allowing her to walk and run as fast as I do; and I haven't endured any movement-impairing injuries either. We walked slowly back towards Varrock, observing the stars in the beautiful clear night.

'Stars are beautiful, don't you think?' she mused, tracing invisible shapes in the air.

'Yeah…'

It became quite clear to me how attached she was to nature, to living things and inanimate alike. She caressed the leaves on trees and blades of grass, touching rocks with reverence each time she passed a boulder, almost as lovers would hold each others' hands and cuddle each other. I could almost assume that she drew her strength and power from this attachment, though the reason why I don't know; it was like…a mysterious link. Something others would never be able to understand fully.

The barbarian village appeared on the left of us as we passed some stone ruins. Its residents were reveling in a feast of some sort, dancing around a central fire and draining jugs of wine and glasses of beer in huge quantities. Not an appropriate sight for a guest from another dimension; the sight was quite disturbing, even for a person from a town nearby. Drunken men, muscular and brain-dead, weren't the friendliest of friends to women.

'Lionna, we'll try to sneak past them. They don't look too friendly,' I whisper to her, crouching under a wooden fence, 'Come on, let's go,'

'Alright,' she replied, sharp and alert. Perhaps this would be something she'd have seen before.

As we stole silently towards the road under the cover of shadows, several barbarians began to brawl loudly on the other side of the fence; it was the perfect opportunity to run, to get quickly to Varrock when—

'Hey, take a look here,' a large barbarian lout slurred, 'A pair of girls, trying to sneak away from us! Perfect entertainment. Adelino, grab them!'

'Run, Lionna!' I screamed, dashing towards the far side of the village, hoping to lose them under the cover of night.

It was a futile attempt.

A bear-like barbarian barred my way with a large axe, licking his lips intently. He held out his left hand as though to grab me, his mouth pursed in a kiss.

_Sickening…_

'Out of my way, bastards,'

_Who said that…?! Lionna?_

'Ooh, the pretty one likes to swear. This is more _interesting_…' a brutish one cackled, 'Let's get them,'

'Back away, before I bury these blades into your flesh,' Lionna growled coldly.

I whip around, seeing her twin short swords drawn out of their sheaths. She was twirling them so rapidly they were almost invisible; the men appeared stunned.

'I'll warn you once more. Back away, before you are slain,' she barked again, gripping the swords firmly.

'Hey, the bitch likes to insult us. Kill her!'

'Then, in the name of the Goddess of Light, I shall slay you all tonight! Death to all of you!'

Like a flash she had leaped over the fence, parrying blows and blades from all angles. She was just a blur of moving colour, slashing and stabbing without hesitation; the screams of the wounded and the sickening sounds of metal rending apart flesh filling the air. One by one the barbarians dropped, with deadly wounds in their chest or neck.

Blood was dripping from the tips of her swords. Sheathing them, she declared boldly, 'I shall defeat the rest of you with only my knives,'

Three more barbarians advanced on her with large two-handed swords, seeking to avenge their dead friends. There was no fear in Lionna's eyes as she drew out two daggers; only wrath. A fiery rage that cannot be matched even by the most powerful berserker in all be barbarian outposts and villages put together.

'Come, show me something,' Lionna challenged, crossing her daggers in a salute.

She deftly sidestepped the barbarians' ill-aimed swings, ducking and dodging their slashes with ease. Grunting, she thrust her daggers into the chest of the barbarian directly in front of her, mortally wounding him before launching herself at the neck of another. They were screaming in panic now, not in the thirst of revenge; only one was left, cowering on his knees.

'How shall I dispatch you, knave?' Lionna mocked, grasping his neck in an iron-fisted grip, 'You are not worthy of being slain by my blade. The very thought of sullying my sword on your blood sickens me,'

'M-Mercy!'

'Go. And don't bother us again,' she shouted, throwing the helpless barbarian a good distance, like a stone thrown from a sling.

'Let's go,' I said, tugging Lionna away from the carnage. Fifteen bodies lay on the cobbled ground, disfigured, some with limbs cleaved off; but in any case, all were dead.

It was strange how Lionna quickly reverted into her pensive and inattentive state, so different from the battle horror that I had seen. Nearly innocent, so peaceful. Almost like a carefree maiden. If a butterfly had hopped on her shoulder and she had been without armour, anyone would have said she was a princess of noble birth, graceful and calm.

Different. It was just too different.

I could not comprehend how someone could be…two people at once. One side a living whirlwind of destruction, the other a calm oasis of peace.

The Blue Moon Inn was rowdy as usual when we arrived; drunkards, pirates and thieves populating its seats. I weaved my way through the crowd; Lionna simply edged along the wall towards the bartender.

'Evening, Barty,' I said in my usual manner, 'How's things?'

'Helena! Where have you been?' he laughed, coming towards me with four glasses of beer in his hand, 'You haven't run into any trouble, have you?'

'Not in any case, Barty, you know I've got a knack for avoiding trouble,'

'Who's the fine girl at the side there? She's the most pretty thing I've seen in my whole life, bless Saradomin,'

'Ah, her?' I said, motioning to Lionna to come closer, 'Lionna Blackbird, a royal knight from another dimension. I went to the rune shop keeper to have a rune examined, and…well, I found her instead,'

'I see. Well, would you have a drink? And would your friend have one too, I should ask?'

'Three beers, Barty, that should do for the night. I wouldn't want to get drunk with a royal knight with me,' I grinned, 'Lionna, what drink would you like to have?'

'A glass of water please, I don't drink alcohol. I've never been tolerant of drinks,' she replied, eyeing the piano with interest.

'Here you go,' Barty said, banging three glasses of beer and one jug of water on the table, 'Could you tell us something about who you are? And where you came from? It would be just out of curiosity, of course,'

'Well,' Lionna began, sipping the water, 'As Helena had said before, I am a royal knight. I have been in service for over one thousand years, a knight dedicated to Eva, the goddess of light,'

'One thousand years. You must be joking, you aren't any more than twenty,'

'No, I am not jesting with you. How shall I prove it? Have you a target board somewhere? Then I may be able to show you that my marksmanship is beyond that of your finest archer,'

'Ah, another funny jest. Robin Hood! Come here with your bow, this lady claims she's better than you at your game,'

An archer dressed in all green approached the bar, holding a bow and a circular board painted with circles of different colours. Pinning up the board on the wooden post near the door, he stood by the bartender's table, his bow in hand.

'My greetings to you, lady,' he spoke to Lionna in his smooth accent, 'Tis a fine day to meet a beauty such as yours,'

'Thank you. So we are attempting to strike the centre of this board, I suppose?'

'You read my mind, lady. I was about to explain what you must do. Very well, I shall start,'

He picked up his bow, drawing back the string as far as it would go. I could see that his left eye was shut in concentration, seeing where the arrow would strike. Loosing the arrow, it struck the board with a bang; the bar fell silent.

'A golden shot,' I mutter under my breath, 'He's a brilliant archer,'

Four shots later, and there were four arrows on the golden middle circle. Only one landed in the outermost circle, and that was due to (when he cursed the fly) a fly landing on his nose. Lionna clapped along; her lips were curved in a smile.

'Allow me,' she said, stretching her arm to grasp the bow that was strapped to her back, picking up five arrows with the other hand. Murmurs ran through the crowd; they did not believe she could defeat Robin Hood. I personally doubted it; how could a warrior, dressed in full armour, shoot properly?

I was even more shocked when I saw her load all five arrows onto the string at the same time. Had she gone mad?

A split second later her fingers let the arrows loose. They sailed smoothly through the air, splitting Robin's arrows in two, the final one striking dead centre on the board.

'Well, Sir Robin, it appears you have lost,' Lionna smiled, strapping the bow back onto her back, looking at her stunned opponent, 'I congratulate you on your fine shooting,'

'Ah,' he stuttered, still in shock, 'Tis would be right for me to say that to you, my dear lady,'

'How'd she shoot like that,' the bartender whispered to me, 'Robin Hood's a master of archery, the best in these lands; to defeat him that badly…it is unthinkable!'

'She's told you; she's had over one thousand years of training!' I laughed, draining my last glass of beer. The bar resumed its normal cheerful attitude, its patrons drinking and talking as usual. Lionna resumed her seat at my side, gulping down her water.

'You're definitely well-trained, Lionna. So, could you tell us the story of your life? It would be a very interesting thing for us to hear,'

'Very well,' she said, gulping a mouthful of water, 'I was born in the Elven Fortress, in a time of war and chaos. Humans, dark elves and orcs rampaged all through the lands, driven to do so in desperation that they would never be able to see another summer. It was…the eternal winter. Or so the elders called it when I was born,'

She paused, straightening her hair.

'Elven lands were the main focus of this conquest, for it was still green and fertile at a time where all others were blanketed in snow and darkness. We were on the brink of defeat; most of the outlying families were either slain or driven back into the fortress, where we hoped to hold off the invading forces. Eventually it became clear to us that the greatest foe to be reckoned with on this battlefield was the Emperor of the Humans, Shunaiman. He wielded the power of the seven seals of the gods, to bend the minds of men to his will and to create discord and fear in all who stood in his way. With the angel Anakim at his side, none were able to even approach him without being killed,'

The bartender was listening intently, and so was I. This was beyond anything we had ever heard.

'In the year 1632 of our goddess Eva, the humans mounted the greatest offensive that we had ever seen. My mother, the chief templar dedicated to protecting the elven peoples and its lands, stood in the path of the invaders. Along with a group of the surviving sentinels of the forest, they battled on for hours on end. I was twenty-four years old at that time, trained little of how to fight and kill,'

She drew her two handed sword from its sheath, laying it down on the bar's table.

'This sword belonged to my mother before she sacrificed her body and soul to save the elven peoples. She barred the path of the invading forces at the central gate for half an hour, ignoring arrows and blades as she killed each human that surged through the gate. In the end, it was all in vain; she may have killed about five hundred humans, but she perished doing it. Most of the elves were captured by Emperor Shunaiman, who bound them in shackles and made them the humans' servants. I, however, was of different interest to him; he had me placed in the human army. For years I was to be trained how to handle pain, how to slay and kill efficiently with every weapon imaginable; for all those years my hatred for humans grew. My mother's sword was the reminder that I was the victim, not the blessed, as they assumed I was; her life was torn away from her body millennia before she would die a natural, peaceful death. I trained harder than ever, remembering that one day I may avenge her death by slaying all the descendants of Shunaiman,'

She paused again, gulping some more water. The bartender was still attentive, albeit shocked at her words.

'But that day was not yet to come. On the midsummer day of 1759, I was called into the great temple of Einhasad in the human capital of Aden. Better for me to have escaped and died that day; for what they have done back then still bothers me now,'

Lionna lifted off her breastplate, placing it on the empty seat beside her. She pulled down the leather armour beneath it slightly, revealing a tattoo of a black dragon just above her breasts.

'See this mark? It is their cruel experiment. I was chained down to a table as they experimented with a dye supposedly imbued with the ability to bring immortality to the bearer; however, my race already possessed the gift of immortality. This cruel experiment performed by them caused me to alter my physical abilities beyond that of any living human, orc or elf; I was granted strength more than that of the strongest orc, quickness beyond that of the fastest elf. My mind became more alert and I was more aware of everything that was going on,'

'Why would you call that a curse or even something bad, Lionna?' the bartender asked slowly, 'To be granted with such incredible abilities would be a blessing,'

'Ah,' she smiled, 'You have not yet heard at what price I gain these. At first I believed that this was a blessing, too. However, a few days later I learned that they used the blood of my betrothed, my mate and future husband, as well as the bones of my ancestors to create this dark and evil substance that now stains my skin. I was to be denied my right to have a soulmate for all eternity, to be left alone for the rest of my life. My mother was dead; my father died years before her. In fact, I am now alone; alone in a world I will never learn to trust,'

'You don't have any other living relatives…?' I asked tentatively, thinking that she was about to cry. There were tears in her eyes, I could see that; but her true feelings I'll never be able to tell behind that warmly false smile.

'No, I don't,' she sniffed, 'I'm all alone. My sister perished on the stake several years after that symbol was engraved onto my flesh; supposedly under the order of Shunaiman due to her insubordinance and treason against the empire. I, for one, do not believe that; my sister was a cleric, one who learns the holy arts of healing. Her duty to her people was that to heal them, not to cause further bloodshed in inciting violence. She took her sentence calmly and with dignity; and for further insult to me, Shunaiman ordered that I was to be chained to a tree opposite to her stake as she was burned alive!'

Lionna stopped, sobbing deeply into her hands. I patted her shoulder gingerly, not knowing if it was the right thing to do at that moment. Perhaps it would be better for her to stop and sleep for the night…

I leant over to the counter and whispered to Barty.

'Do you have any spare beds or rooms? My one isn't…ah…big enough for both of us,'

'I don't have any spare rooms, Helena, but I can lend you a spare mattress,' he replies, putting away a clean beer glass.

'That…should be fine,' I said, leading Lionna upstairs to calm her down. My room wasn't exactly one fit for a king, but it will do for now. It's a little cramped, with barely enough space to slot in an extra mattress.

I helped Lionna take off her heavy armour, sliding the pieces underneath my bed. There was barely enough space left underneath it as I forced in the last piece of leather undercoat.

'It's very nice of you to help me,' Lionna whispered, sitting down on the edge of my bed, her hands in her lap, 'Back from where I came from, humans would rarely ever sit with elves, let alone share a room. We were almost treated like animals,'

'No matter—'

I was taken back in surprise as Lionna forced her lips upon mine, kissing me lovingly. It was also the first time I had ever experienced caring or love; though not really the most comfortable.

'Lionna, it's getting late. Have a rest. Sleep on the bed,' I said, dragging in the mattress that Barty pulled out from the storage room opposite.

_It was the first time I had ever shared a room with anyone…_

_  
And it's not that bad. At least I feel safe._

…

_Maybe because I know she can cut any intruder into tiny little pieces…?_

A/N

A chapter that I took a little longer to write about. It's difficult to write a story inside a story, using dialogue as a method of carrying it across; the part where Lionna retells the story of her life especially. I'd need a lot of advice on this one especially; I wasn't quite sure how people would take that.

Review please, with constructive criticism in mind. To become a better writer I must know what I'm doing wrong.


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